The Snow in King's Landing
by dustdancingintheflickerlight
Summary: The Night's Watch doesn't appeal to Jon Snow, so Ned allows him to leave for King's Landing with his sisters. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, and there's about to be some snow in King's Landing.
1. A Request

Rain fell heavily onto the walls of Winterfell and the majority of the inhabitants were inside, huddled around a toasty fire. But this was Jon Snow, and he knew nothing. The news of his father's appointment as Hand of the King had shaken him. He was a bastard and no bastards, not even acknowledged bastards, were welcome at King's Landing. Lord Stark and Arya would be leaving; two members of the family who actually treated him like a Stark. Sansa too, though he wouldn't miss her as much. Jon still loved her as a sister, but Sansa took after Lady Catelyn. To them, Jon was a product of Ned's infidelity, nothing more, nothing less.

"Jon?" An authoritative voice boomed through the misty atmosphere created by the rain. Jon hadn't realised how silent it had been until his father called his name.

"Lord Stark." Jon replied, courteously.

"Am I no longer your father, boy? You shall call me that, and nothing else. My children call me father." Ned smiled warmly, and took a seat on the wall his son was perched upon; luckily, it was sheltered and his garments didn't get wet.

"What's going to happen to me, father?"

Ned shifted awkwardly where he sat. He knew what this was about, and he had been dreading having to face this conversation ever since King Robert visited and offered him the position. He didn't want to accept it, but the alleged murder of Jon Arryn was quite intriguing and after all, he was related to the deceased Hand by marriage. "When?"

"When you leave for King's Landing. You and Arya will be thousands of miles away and Robb is your heir, he won't have time for me. We both know what Lady Catelyn thinks of me, Father, she will have me sent away quicker than you can imagine. I'm a bastard, and that's all I will ever be." Trying not to sound craven or pitying in the presence of his lord father, Jon stifled a sigh.

"You may not have my name, but you have my blood. You are still a Stark, Jon. You still love your brothers and sisters, and you make me just as proud as my other children. If I could make it so that Lady Catelyn was your true mother, I would. But we both know that can not happen. As for what will happen to you.. I know my wife will keep you safe in Winterfell out of loyalty to me and respect for you."

"Respect for.. me?"

"She may not show it, but she respects the love you have for your brothers and sisters, as do I. Gods above, sometimes you are the only one who can control that temper of Arya's. You two are very alike, she's really going to miss you when we leave."

A sudden flicker of inspiration and Jon had an important question to ask his father. He contemplated for a while, fearing he already knew the answer. The other option was staying in Winterfell with Robb, poor crippled Bran and little Rickon, enduring stares of hatred from Lady Stark and endless remarks from Theon Greyjoy. There was always the Night's Watch.. "Father, can I come with you?"

"Jon.."

"Please, just hear me out! Other than Robb, I have always gotten on best with you and Arya and I know King Robert may frown upon you bringing your bastard to King's Landing but I'll sleep anywhere and I'll work in the kitchens, or I'll teach people how to sword fight," Jon rambled with an air of naivety only a boy of his age could muster. "I could join the Kingsguard!"

Ned chuckled. "I will think about it. As for joining the Kingsguard, I don't think I would like my son turn out like Jaime Lannister. Go and get cleaned up for dinner, and I will send Maester Luwin to your quarters to tend to your arm." He said, gesturing to a particularly nasty looking cut Jon had achieved during a swordfight with Theon. When his bastard son began to walk away, Eddard shouted him back. "Jon? Remember what I said. You have my blood."

...

"No."

"Cat, it's a solution. You have never liked having Jon in Winterfell."

Catelyn Stark threw an icy look at her husband, the newly appointed Hand of the King. Not that she didn't want rid of Jon Snow, oh no, she would jump at the chance to rid Winterfell of him. The boy was a constant source of disappointment to her and not only because he symbolized the one act of distrust prominent in their otherwise solid marriage, but because she still felt immense amounts of guilt towards him. Jon was just a motherless child - he was not to blame for Ned's infidelity. She thought of little Rickon in the bastard boys position, alone in a strange castle full of frightening swordsmen and a wet nurse. It was not a fair bargain and Cat hated herself for not being able to find the courage to acknowledge him as her own son. He was nice child, an easy child to love, but she wouldn't let those feelings penetrate the barriers she had put up so long ago. "What do you think Robert will have to say about this, Ned?"

"Robert has bastards of his own, although not acknowledged. Cersei would flay the poor babes if she had half the chance. I met a little girl of his, we were only young.. not much older than Robb, in fact." Secretly, Ned had wanted Jon to join them on the road to King's Landing all along. The poor boy would be left to a life of discrimination if left alone at Winterfell. He was unsure why Catelyn was showing so much resistance.

"I do not care about Robert Baratheon's children. If all of your trueborn children children can not come to King's Landing with you, why must Jon?"

"Bran is grievously ill, Rickon is too young and Robb is my heir. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, Cat, you know that."

She knew it almost as well as House Starks words - Winter is coming. Winter is coming, and Gods above, didn't they know it. "Fine. Take your bastard, but when Cersei refuses to let him sleep in the castle, do not say I didn't warn you. Because it will be her that shows resistance towards Jon, not Robert."

Ned moved behind his wife, entangling his arms around her waist, impressively small after birthing five children. They looked on out of the window and with the rain having held off, they watched as Rickon chased his direwolf around the yard. "l shall miss Winterfell."

"I shall miss you and the girls. I may even miss Jon.. but, I can only hope that he keeps Arya in check, for your sake, if not for Cersei Lannister's sanity."


	2. The Kingsroad

Nymeria the direwolf crept around Arya Stark's room, occasionally passing its owner an item of clothing to be packed for King's Landing. The youngest Stark girl had a face full of emotion - boredom, uninterest and anger. It wasn't fair. Sansa's things were perfectly folded, according to Septa Mordane, folded with incredible patience and skill that could only come from a true lady. Arya scoffed at that; who wants to be a lady, anyway? Born into a childhood of sowing and manners, growing up to be married off to some house Lord, birthing sons who would grow up to be heirs.. it wasn't the life that Arya dreamed of. She wanted to fight with her own sword, to explore Westeros with excitement glistening in her eyes. And maybe, just maybe, one day she would meet a man who wanted all of that, too, and they could have sons and daughters who grow up to follow their parents footsteps. There's no fun in settling down and being a lady.

As she folded a skirt she recognised as an eighth name day gift, Arya's door creaked open, letting a bitter chill in. Her bastard brother Jon Snow entered, grinning the smile that always made her feel special. Jon was easier to talk to than Robb, and it still angered Arya that her mother treated Jon differently. They looked the most alike too, stealing their fathers handsome features rather than the striking beauty of the Tullys.

"Septa Mordane says I have to do it again." Arya said, bitterly. "My things aren't properly folded, she says. They're going to get all messed up anyway!"

Jon chuckled at the young wolf's rage. "I've got something for you, and it needs to be packed very carefully."

"A present?" Arya beamed, her eyes now full of excitement.

"Close the door." When his younger sister did as he said, Jon unsheathed the newly forged sword from it's hilt. A thin, yet sharp looking blade sparkled in the remainder of the natural light being allowed into the room after the door was closed. "This is not a toy. Be careful you don't cut yourself."

Glowing in admiration for her new weapon and her favourite sibling, Arya said, "It's so skinny!"

"So are you. I had the blacksmith make it for you special. It can't hack a mans head off, but it can poke it full of holes if you're quick enough."

"I can be quick."

"First lesson." He glanced toward the door; he did not need Lady Catelyn to enter and find him teaching her daughter in the ways of a swordsman. "Stick 'em with the pointy end."

For a few moments, Arya moved away from Jon and lightly swung her gift around, slicing the air. It was amazing - it was as if all the frustrating resentment felt toward her sister and Septa Mordane disappeared, and with all the non-sadistic ways of a child she imagined sticking them with the pointy end, just as Jon had described. "I wish we weren't leaving, Jon. You could have taught me how to use it."

Crouching down to stroke Nymeria's thick white fur, surprisingly accepted considering he was covered in Ghost's smell, Jon said, "Maybe I still can."

"But I'll be in King's Landing with Sansa and Father, and you'll be in Winterfell!"

"I've got something to tell you. Don't tell anyone yet, okay?" Arya nodded eagerly. "I'm coming to King's Landing with you! I asked Father if I could." Arya giggled, running to hug her brother, sword still in hand. "Careful!" Jon waited until she laid down the skinny weapon, before scooping her up into a well-needed embrace. "You know, all the best swords have a name."

"Sansa can keep her sewing needles. I have a Needle of my own."

...

Jon said a heartbreaking goodbye to young Bran, although it would have been worse if he had known he was on his way to the Night's Watch. At least this way, he had a chance to see Bran again, and little Rickon and Robb. Normally, he would have completely disregarded the brual stares thrown at him from Lady Catelyn, but he was receiving them doing nothing more than saying goodbye to his ill brother and that hurt. Why? Jon asked himself everyday.. she could have just ignored him. She could have just got on with her life, showered her trueborn children with all the love and admiration in all of Westeros, and ignored him. Part of him wanted to attempt a truce before he left for King's Landing. After all, she was the biggest mother figure in Jon's life, with the exceptions of Old Nan and the obscure wet nurse who he couldn't remember. Jon decided against it - a clean break may be better for all. As he stood over Bran's bed, he decided to say just one thing.

"I will keep your daughters safe, Lady Stark. Everyone knows King's Landing isn't the magical land everyone makes out." An awkward silence followed and Jon could literally feel Catelyn seething.

"I thank you for that." It took a lot for Cat to find the strength to say these words. "Take care of yourself, Jon Snow."

Jon gently kissed Bran's forehead, gave Lady Stark a courteous bow and his warmest smile, and left.

...

Horses pounded along the Kingsroad, carrying the nobility of House Baratheon and men of House Stark. It was a long road, and a stop would have to be made at an Inn for recuperation, and to take bread and ale. Lord Stark led the riders, with his children following not far behind. Sansa was most disappointed when she heard the bastard would be joining them. It was her chance at the life had always dreamed of - what would her beautiful betrothed Prince Joffrey think when she arrived at his home with her bastard half-brother? What if he decided he didn't want to marry someone who came from a house with such an obvious stain on the name? She would cry and cry, and she would never forgive Jon Snow.

"We shall stop here for the night." King Robert shouted, hoping to be heard over the noise of hooves and idle chatter.

In a feeble attempt to build bridges with his sister, Jon offered to reign Sansa's horse for her, knowing she would be disgusted by the smell of the stable. Sansa graciously accepted, although with the air of a high lady talking to someone below her, rather than a favour from a brother. He simply shook his head, and pulled the horses into the stable.

"Ah, the bastard boy." A silky voice drifted into the air.

"My lord." Jon automatically bowed at the sight of Tyrion Lannister, son of Tywin, brother to Cersei and Jaime.

"Please, call me The Imp, everyone else does." Tyrion said, with his trademark casual humour. "Will you take a drink with me outside? I do not care for the smell of horse shit."

Jon obliged, and found himself lounging on a grassy patch just outside of the Inn. The sun was just falling down, and the remaining heat settled comfortably on their skin. Winter is coming, and Gods above was Jon going to miss summer.

"Wine?" Tyrion asked.

Lord Stark had only allowed his children one or two cups at feasts. Unfortunately for Jon, Tyrion had been there when King Robert visited; Jon had thought it a brilliant idea to drink his weight in wine, attempting to black out the intense feeling of loneliness and abandonment surrounding him since his father's appointment as Hand of the King. "Thank-you, my lord."

"Oh, call me Tyrion. We are much similar than you realise, young wolf."

"In what ways?" Jon took a sip of wine, and winced slightly at the taste; he had never been too fond.

"Look at me and tell me what you see."

"Is this a trick?"

"What you see is a dwarf. If I had been born a peasant they might have left me out in the woods to die. Alas, I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock, things are expected of me. My father was the Hand of the King for twenty years."

"Until your brother killed that king." It was common knowledge throughout Westeros that Jaime Lannister, a sworn member of the Kingsguard, murdered the Mad King. It was for that reason Robert Baratheon currently sat on the Iron Throne.

Tyrion smiled, a mix of confusion and amusement. "Yes, until my brother killed him. Life is full of these little ironies. My sister married the new king and my repulsive nephew will be king after him. I must do my part for my house, don't you agree? My brother had a sword, and I have my mind. I value my mind over a sword, bastard boy."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? You are a bastard, aren't you? We are both broken, Jon Snow, and you are about to be thrown head first into the lions den that is King's Landing. It would be wise of you to think of me a friend.. one day you may need it."


	3. Wolves and Lions

Chatting idly with Tyrion Lannister of all people, Jon felt dizzy from the wine. His nerves about arriving at King's Landing were extinguished somewhat by the conversation with the Imp, though part of him suspected he was only receiving the kindness of a fellow outcast. Whatever it was, their words were cut short by the sound of shouts coming from behind them. Instinctively, Jon called for Ghost and jumped to his feet, following the sound. His feet took him to a grassy patch around the back of the Inn, where he found his frightened looking sister, staring at something.

"Sansa, what's happened? Are you hurt?"

The weeping girl shook her head. "It was Arya! She hurt my prince! My poor Joff!"

Sure as the Wall was tall, there on the ground writhed Prince Joffrey Baratheon, writhing in alleged pain and clutching desperately at his bloodied arm. It amused Jon somewhat to know that the heir to the Seven Kingdoms screamed like a girl, but he wouldn't show it. He was all too aware of the power of the royals. Ghost bared his teeth, frustrated at the noise. "Ghost, settle. Can you stand, Prince Joffrey?"

"My arm!" The insufferable prince shouted, annoyingly. "Look at my arm! I will have that girl on a charge of treason and that butchers boy, too!"

"Where is Arya?" Jon's anger started to flare at that; how dare he threaten a child? He wasn't king yet.

"What on earth is going on?" Apparently, Lord Eddard Stark was also intrigued by the noise. He made his way up and put an arm around a frightened Sansa, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "Sweet girl, whatever is the matter?"

"Where is my sister?" Jon shouted again, ignoring the arrival of his father.

"Jon! Jon, calm down." Ned ordered. "Sansa, you're not in trouble, I promise. Tell me what's happened."

Sansa Stark relayed the tale to her father through a veil of tears - she described how the lovely Joffrey was only helping Arya, who was being attacked by a common butchers boy. She even recounted how her sister had threw the princes sword in the river, but Ned knew to take a child's word with a pinch of salt. He called for a maester to attend to the prince, and sent Jon to search the woods for Arya.

...

"Nymeria, you have to go!" Arya whispered, scratching the direwolfs neck with incredible tenderness. It might be the last chance she got to stroke the thick white fur, but as long as the wolf left as soon as possible then at least it wouldn't be subject to beheading by the royal family. The direwolf seemed to be as stubborn as its owner, though, and refused to budge. "Nymeria, please, they will kill you!" The wolf whined; eventually, it ran deep into the woods.. breaking Arya's heart with every step. She hated Sansa, she hated Joffrey and she hated King's Landing already. She wanted to be back in Winterfell. But most of all, she wanted Jon, he always knew what to do.

The night sky descended rather quickly, covering the young girl in a dome of blackness. Though she wouldn't admit it for all the gold in Westeros, but without the sworn protection of her wolf, it was beginning to frighten her. Her empty belly rumbled and made her jump; every noise could be Baratheon men, ready to take her head for the crime of hurting the prince, a crime she had not committed, but would undoubtedly be blamed for. As Arya's eyes began to surrender to exhaustion, she heard a voice.

"Arya! Arya Stark, can you hear me? It's Jon!"

"Jon!" She whispered, excitedly. Without another thought, Arya ran full force in the direction of her brother's voice.

"There you are!" He smiled as he watched her run up to him; she jumped into his arms. "Father has had men out searching for you all night."

"Am I in trouble?"

"I suspect so, but Father won't let them hurt you, little one, don't worry about that. What happened with the prince?"

"He was hurting Mycah! He just needed to be taught a lesson, that's all. I hate him, Jon."

"I know you do, but he is heir to the throne, Arya, and one day he'll be your brother-in-law."

She shuddered at the very thought. "He'll be yours too."

"Only half. Half brother in law, doesn't quite have the same ring to it, does it?"

Giggling, Arya let herself fall asleep in Jon's arms. He always knew how to cheer her up, and all the fear of her impending situation vanished almost as quickly as poor Nymeria did.

...

A makeshift throne room had been hastily assembled at the request of Cersei Lannister. According to her, her son had been mauled by a direwolf and it would be inappropriate for the issue not to be addressed. King Robert merely rolled his eyes, ordered his squire to bring more wine and told his wife to do whatever she liked, but to be quick about it - they had to get back on the road to the Landing as soon as possible.

"I, King Robert Baratheon, First of My Name, do call this council to address the issue of my sons injuries. He claims he was attacked by a direwolf belonging to the youngest Stark girl. Lord Stark, can you bring light upon this matter?" The words were drawled as uninterestedly as humanly possible, muttered through gulps of wine.

"Your Grace, I have my men out searching for Arya. She has not been seen since-" Eddard was interrupted by a heavy knock on the door.

Robert bellowed for the knocker to enter. The wooden door, hanging of its hinges, swung open, and Jon entered awkwardly with a sleeping Arya curled up in his arms. He was unsure how to address his father in front of the royals. To call him Lord Stark may offend him, but to call him Father may offend the nobility.

Cersei was looking upon the boy with her scheming eyes; Lord Stark's bastard on the road to King's Landing, well, that could be interesting. "You brought your bastard, Lord Stark?"

"I did, Your Grace. Jon, where did you find her?" Ned asked, scooping his daughter from Jon's arms, trying to wake her up as gently as possible. He also left Jon with a knowing look that said keep your temper at bay and remember who you're dealing with.

"She was hidden deep in the woods, absolutely terrified. She said the prince," Jon explained, choosing his words carefully, "got confused, and thought that Arya's friend was hurting her. She would never wish ill on Prince Joffrey, Your Grace."

"Lies!" Joffrey whined repulsively, seated next to his mother.

Robert hushed the boy. "This is tedious. It is clearly a childish argument gone awry. Ned, my friend, punish your daughter however you see fit, and I will do the same with my son. That is all. I thank you all for attending tonight, please, get a good nights sleep, we set off for King's Landing in the morning."

Cersei's face contorted into a vicious scowl. "And what of the beast that mauled your son, your _heir_? Surely, you will not allow for the things to roam freely around your home city?"

"We will deal with the matter when we arrive, woman."

...

"Penny for them?"

Jon spun round on his heels upon hearing the voice. Surprisingly, he had been given his own room that night, despite the sheer amount of men riding to King's Landing; he couldn't sleep, regardless. Not wanting to disturb the Maester Pycelle with a request for dreamwine, he decided fresh air might do the trick. So, there he sat, staring thoughtfully into the night sky, an exquisite mixture of deep blues and patterned with glowing stars. The peace was perfect, right up until he was interrupted. "Excuse me?"

Cersei Lannister was dressed in a nightgown, her flowing golden locks tied up behind her head, making her striking features stand out even more. "Penny for your thoughts, Jon Snow."

"I-I was just.. I couldn't sleep, Your Grace." He bowed slightly, remembering his courtesies. "If I may, how do you know my name?"

"Oh, everyone knows you. When the widely respected, faithful Lord of Winterfell arrives back to his new wife with a bastard babe in tow, the news spreads like wildfire. I bet your whore mother was famous, wherever she lived."

"My mother wasn't a whore."

The queen smiled; there was nothing behind the eyes. "A pretty whore, I imagine. You're a handsome young man."

Jon took a deep breath, as discreetly as possible. He had heard tales of the Lannister's skill for manipulation and hunger for power, but this was making him feel uncomfortable. Why, in the middle of the night, would the queen seek Ned Stark's bastard, and compliment him on his looks?

"Don't look so frightened, boy. I am, after all, just a woman. I do have a proposition for you, though. When we arrive at King's Landing, I will find your quarters and we will speak." Cersei said, cryptically. "I bid you goodnight, young wolf."


	4. How Do You Like King's Landing, Jon Snow

King's Landing may have been the most magnificent place the three Stark children had ever seen in their lives, but Jon was too pre-occupied to appreciate its beauty. Cersei Lannister's words were ringing prominently in his ears; what would the queen want with a Northern bastard? All sorts of theories developed in his mind, but he couldn't settle on one as they all seemed impossible, or terrifying. Had she become so offended by his very presence that she planned to rid the capital of him, not before playing the worst kind of mind game - Cersei had said she would only tell him of her proposition when they arrived, and the capital was still a couple of weeks ride away.

"Oh, it's beautiful." Sansa gushed, having been reluctantly forced, by Ned, into taking a walk around the capital with her least favourite siblings. Her reluctance was quickly diminished once the chivalric singers' melodies floated into ears. "I never want to leave!"

Ignoring her, Arya tugged on Jon's sleeve. "Can you start teaching me how to use Needle today?" She had been itching to use her new sword ever since she packed it, hiding it safely under clothes just in case Septa Mordane decided to check her suitcase again. When Jon didn't seem to hear her, she repeated, "Jon?"

"What?"

"Needle.. you said you would teach me. Do you think I could fight in the tourney they're holding for Father?"

"I don't know. I will teach you but there's something I have to do. Stay with your sister, and don't get lost, okay?" Jon mumbled, not waiting for a reply.

He ran back to his quarters so fast that by the time he arrived and closed the door behind him, breath was short. This was stupid, this whole thing was so stupid. He had to find out what the queen wanted or he might explode. Coming to King's Landing was supposed to be a fresh start for him; he may still be called a bastard, but it would be away from the confines of Winterfell, away from the steely glares of Lady Catelyn, everyday reminding him of the circumstances of his birth. A knock came at the door shortly after he arrived back.

"Jon Snow?" A young squire asked when he answered. "The queen would like to see you in the Throne room."

...

Entering the Throne room for the first time was a strange experience for Jon, one that was probably impossible to prepare for. It was the room where the Targaryen dynasty had been ended by the Kingslayer, where centuries upon centuries of Kings had their coronations, where royal weddings had taken place - the atmosphere of the room was overwhelmingly powerful, as if the all the memories made in there blew up all at once. Without Ghost at his side, Jon felt bare, almost scared. He knelt in front of the sparkling Iron Throne, which currently held Cersei Lannister, and said, "Your Grace, you asked for me."

"Yes, I did." Cersei stood up and walked so she was stood directly in front of the boy. "How do you like King's Landing, Jon Snow?"

"It's very welcoming, my lady."

She forced a smile. "Let's stop the unnecessary chat, shall we? You're obviously wondering why I asked you here."

"It certainly.. crossed my mind." He said, trying not to sound feeble in her presence.

"I would like to offer you legitimacy."

Jon paled. It was the one thing that hadn't crossed his mind when wondering what on earth Cersei could want with him just because it seemed so impossible. Bastards are rarely offered legitimacy, only in desperate cases of Lord's needing heirs imminently. Wouldn't it be nice, though? To be an actual Stark, rather than half of one. "W-what?"

The queen smirked, quite obviously expecting this bewildered reaction. "I would like to offer you the chance to become legitimate. I can only imagine what you have to endure living as a bastard."

"I-I don't know.. can I think about it?" Jon was forgetting his courtesies now, but it didn't matter. He didn't feel like he was having a conversation with the queen, it felt like a dream, one that he would wake up from any minute now.

"Of course. Return to your quarters, think long and hard about my offer, Jon."

Cersei Lannister watched proudly as the confident young boy she had met first at Winterfell left the Throne room, undoubtedly dazed and confused. It was what she wanted; the boy had to learn to be afraid of her family, and of the Baratheons too, as for all intents and purposes, she was a Baratheon, though she was a lion at heart. She was Jaime's, not Roberts. The blood flowing through her children was purely Lannister; Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella would grow up to be great lions. Cersei prayed to the Gods every night that Robert would have little influence over them.

"My lady, one does wonder what you are up to." The assumed to be squire boy suddenly transformed - his hood was pulled back to reveal a shining bald head, and his posture became perfectly straight, rather than bent like a hunchback.

"Eavesdropping now, Varys? I could have you executed." Cersei snarled, with a certain warmth to her tone. She had always held a soft spot for the eunuch; he had provided very valuable over the years, especially when her gracious husband had decided the small council was not appropriate for a woman. That riled her, and Varys had been there to whisper in her ear.

"Pardon me, but a spider does what he had to to stay in business. What, if you don't mind me asking, are you wanting with the Stark boy?"

"That, Lord Varys, is precisely it. He is not a Stark, he is a Snow."

"I am struggling to see your point, my lady."

"Eddard Stark brought his daughters and his bastard son to King's Landing. Upon the event of his downfall, we may need his children for.. back-up, or protection if the North ever decide to rebel. Young Sansa is already betrothed to my son, and the other girl, I imagine, will not be too hard to handle. But Jon Snow is a bastard, Lady Catelyn cares not about him. If I persuade Robert to legitimize him, then Catelyn would have no other choice than to make decisions wisely, and to protect her husbands true-born child. Three Stark children is better than two."

Varys looked at her questioningly, a rare moment of expression appearing on his face. "When did you acquire the ability to predict the downfall of Hand's? I should quite like you to teach me that skill."

"Lord Stark did not want to accept the position in the first place, Varys. He accepted only out of loyalty to my husband, but that loyalty will be put under strain once he realises how monstrous Robert is. If I were a man, I would wager Ned Stark will not last longer than a year as Hand."

"And you don't think asking for the boys legitimacy will raise Robert's suspicions?"

"I don't care about his suspicions."

"Well, my lady, if you're completely sure.."

"I am." Cersei said, eyes burning with fiery ideas. "Oh and Varys, if you repeat our little conversation, you won't just be a eunuch, you will be a headless eunuch."


	5. Needles and Names

A raven arrived with the news of Bran's awakening a couple of weeks into the Stark family's stay in the capital. It came with conflicted emotions - he may be concious, but at only eight years of age the boy had been rendered a cripple. He would never be able to become a knight, would likely never father sons and back home, Catelyn Stark had sworn to take revenge on whoever was responsible. She held in her possession a blade, a blade which happened to be the only evidence available to prove her sons attempted murder. She was currently residing in Winterfell, comforting a distraught Bran and deciding whether to ride South to begin her investigation.

Due to the dangerous nature of flying information across the country using ravens, Eddard hadn't been informed of the latest development. It was why, that night, he made his way to his children's respective quarters to bring them the seemingly good news. He knocked on the door of Arya's room first.

"Can I come in?" He smiled warmly, amused at the proportionality of the little girl to the huge chamber door. "I've got news."

"Has the King said we can keep the direwolves?" Arya asked; it was the only thing of importance to her at the minute. She had been keeping Nymeria close at all times, in case one of the Lannister men decided to bring her life to an unnecessary end.

"I managed to persuade King Robert that the direwolves are perfectly safe. They should be fine, as long as you keep them out of trouble." Ned's eyes flickered towards a sparkling object in his daughters hand. "What's this?"

Arya reluctantly handed over the sword to her father. "It's mine."

"This is Mikken's work." He said, inspecting the steel. "Where did you get this?"

"I said I wouldn't tell."

"A sword isn't something young lady's should be playing with." Ned scolded, lightly.

"I don't want to be a lady! Jon understands, that's why he gave me-" Arya quietened as she realised what she had said. "Oops."

Eddard sat on a trunk at the end of his youngest daughters bed, and gestured for her to come and take a seat next to him. He lay the sword over his knees - it really was a marvellous piece of work. "Do you even know how to handle a sword?" he asked, when she took a seat.

"Stick 'em with the pointy end." She said proudly. "That's what Jon told me."

"Well, Jon is right. But these weapons are very dangerous, sweet child, unless you know how to use them properly."

"Jon said he'd teach me, but I haven't seen him for ages. He stays in his chamber all day."

Ned blinked. He had noticed that too, although hearing it from Arya's mouth had only just brought it to the front of his mind. Truth was, Jon had seemed almost withdrawn since the ride to King's Landing, but Ned didn't question it; he couldn't be seen to be showing too much affection to the boy, however much he might want to, for fear of offending the nobility. It would keep Jon safe in the long run, anyway, and he knew how important that was. Already, he had started secretly investigating the alleged murder of Jon Arryn, a dangerous game indeed. "I'll have a chat with him. If he won't, I'll make sure you learn properly, okay?"

"I can keep it?"

"As long as you promise me one thing. Don't go near your sister with it!"

...

"Ghost, quiet!" Jon snapped, uncharacteristically. The haunting cry of the wolf normally comforted him, made him feel safe - Ghost was finally something wholly his, not half, like everything he had ever had since he was a babe. Today, though, as he lay on his bed the noise was intensifying the sharp pain darting through his head; he couldn't think straight, and he had been unable to reply to the Queen's offer, because he couldn't pluck up the courage to talk to his father about it. It was confusing for Jon; part of him wanted to decline the offer, knowing there must be some sort of catch. So why did the other half long to say yes?

"Jon?" The voice was recognised immediately. "Can I come in?"

Jon jumped up from the feather-bed, and pulled open the door. "Father?"

"How are you finding the capital? I haven't really had chance to speak to you since we arrived." Ned asked, wandering into the quarters. He noted that it was distinctly smaller than Arya and Sansa's rooms, with a chill coming from somewhere undetectable.

"It's good. It's nice."

Ned looked on suspiciously. "You've been quiet, Jon. Arya has noticed, too."

Jon was silent. He perched himself on the side of his bed, looking sullen. His normally protruding cheekbones were achingly prominent, his ivory skin translucently pale in the dim light of the chambers. "Father, I-I.. there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Before you do, there's something you should know." Ned sat next to his bastard son. "Bran has woken up, a raven arrived from Catelyn earlier."

"That's.. that's brilliant!" Jon smiled, but the soft tone with a hint of worry was still there. Unknowingly, the lord had cemented Jon's decision. The elation in his voice was clear as he spoke about Bran's recovery; his true-born son. That kind of admiration and pride would never be eminent in Lord Stark's voice when talking about Jon, and no official documents would change that. He had came to a realisation - it wasn't a Stark he needed to be to fit in, he already had their blood, it was a Tully.

"He'll be crippled, but better to be alive and crippled than dead, I think. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I don't want to keep you from your work."

"Nonsense. It was obviously important, or you wouldn't have mentioned it."

Jon took a deep breath, as if the air would suddenly transform into liquid confidence. "On the way here, at the inn where the Joffrey was hurt.. the last night we were there, I was outside because I couldn't sleep and the Queen started talking to me. It was strange, she was acting," he paused, thinking about his wording. Everyone knew King's Landing had ears, everywhere. "nice, nice to me.. and told me that she had a proposition for me."

Eddard was taken aback; why would the Lannisters be interested in Jon? Whatever it was, it smacked trouble. "What kind of proposition?"

"I've already made my decision. I'm going to decline.. she offered me legitimacy. As in, she offered to make me a Stark, officially."

"Why would she do that?" Ned mumbled, thinking aloud. "I don't understand. What did you say?"

"I asked for time to think about it but don't worry, I'm going to say no." He began scratching Ghost's neck fondly, calming his nerves and brewing anger.

"What do you mean, don't worry?"

"I know you wouldn't want me to be an official Stark, and I know Cersei has only offered it to manipulate you, somehow. I know that you only let me come to King's Landing because you didn't want to leave me with Lady Stark, and you can say you think of me as you think of your other children as much as you like but I know it's not true." Jon trailed off, thinking about what to say next. It was odd that after weeks of deliberating, tossing and turning the decision in his mind, it could be made by a few simple words from his father. "I'll go to the Queen as soon as possible and tell her that I politely decline."

Standing up, Ned shook his head discreetly. Already, King's Landing had torn his family apart, scattering them half in the North, half in the South. It was obviously some sort of mind game from Cersei, but what does she gain from it? Perplexed, Ned said, "Jon, if you want to accept, then accept. It makes no difference to me if you're name is Snow or Stark, you're still my son. I'm sure Arya would say the same, and Sansa, and the rest of your siblings back home. What I can't understand is why she would offer it to you.. I don't see what she has to gain from it."

"Does there have to be something to gain?"

"If it were Robert offering it, I would say no, but it's Cersei." Ned sighed, shaking his head as if to shake away the confusion. "Listen, son, do what would make you happy, and I will try my best not to get you tangled up in the world of politics."

"Okay, I'll think about it." Jon said, feeling relieved for the first time since the night at the Inn.

Nodding, Ned walked towards the door. "One more thing. The sword you gave Arya.."

"I'm sorry." He apologised, immediately. "I just thought she'd like it."

"No, no, it's fine. But she did say you promised to teach her, and a wild little girl like her really can not be let lose with a sword around so many of the nobility. You're a good swordsman, Jon, so I'll organise somewhere for you to teach her, as soon as possible."

Jon Snow smiled in agreement; on his next name day, he might be Jon Stark.. he still couldn't decide.

...

A/N: Hello! Thank-you all for reading, I'm actually overwhelmed at the feedback I've had for this fic!

The reviews have been great, quite critical (which I like, it helps me to improve) and generally nice. I've also realised how hard it is to write ASOIAF fic. Normally, every other fic I've written I've just done it as I go along, not planning the chapters much but this is way harder. I feel like I just want to get it right, but I don't feel like I'm there yet.

There was supposed to be something else tacked on the end of this chapter, but I'm leaving it for the next so I can flesh it out a bit more.

I still haven't decided on a proper storyline, only vague ideas of where I'm going with it - every time I decide on something, I don't feel like I would be able to write it well enough. Oh, to be confident, eh? Also, characterisation is a massive worry of mine; the worst thing I could do is not write characters in character, so I hope I've done my best on that front!

Again, thank you for the reviews/faves/follows. They honestly mean the world. Hope you enjoy!


	6. Unexpected Arrivals

The queen lay in anticipation on her marriage bed, occasionally taking small sips of wine; she did not want a cloudy head tonight. It was a rare occasion that her husband Robert went hunting _and_ her brother was in the capital. No-one would interrupt them, perks of being a queen, so they had the whole night to enjoy together. Cersei hated the surreptitious way they had to creep around, ever since the first time they realised their attraction to each other.. they shared a womb, they entered the world together but if anyone every found out what they did, their heads would undoubtedly be hacked off by Ilyn Payne and their children would be murdered in their beds. There was no way she would ever let anyone endanger her children, so she met with Jaime in secret and endured Robert's drunken fumbles in the bedroom, often too intoxicated to remember they had actually slept together in the morning. A part of her often wondered whether they ever could have made their marriage work, but Cersei knew that the relationship crumbled as soon as the boorish oaf called another woman's name on their marriage night. Ever since then, she focused entirely on keeping him happy sufficiently enough to stop him asking questions, and focusing on her forbidden relationship with her brother, and their incest-born children.

Cersei's eyes were shut; hearing her brothers voice made her heart flutter. As he entered, he said, "I got rid of the guards, and told them that if anyone disturbs us, I shall have their head on a spike."

"I've missed you." She glided over to his side, planting a light kiss on his lips.

Jaime's golden hair sparkled, even in the dim candlelight. He was dressed in his best clothes, but lacked the traditional white cloak adorned by one in the Kingsguard. Why he wasn't guarding Robert while hunting, Cersei didn't know, but she wasn't complaining. "I've missed you too, sweet sister, but my duties guarding your husband can not be avoided. I narrowly escaped the hunting trip by telling him I wanted to keep an eye on Ned Stark."

"Speaking of Ned Stark," Cersei began, pulling away from her brother and refilling her goblet. "the boy.. Bran, is it? Apparently someone tried to kill him while he was unconscious."

Jaime blinked. "They didn't succeed, I take it?"

"No, they didn't. One of those horrible dire-wolves that that family are so fond of ripped the attackers throat out."

"So someone tried and fails to kill the boy I pushed out of a window.. you don't think this was me, do you?" He asked, with the hint of a laugh at the back of his throat.

"Was it?"

"Of course not. Cersei, if I wanted the boy to die I would have done a proper job. This was nothing to do with me." Jaime moved to sit next to her on the bed, sweeping her flowing locks away from her face. "You needn't be worried. If the boy wakes, likely he will not remember what he saw, and if he does, he won't tell anyone. He'll be too frightened."

She shifted, uncharacteristically uncomfortable. Something, for the first time, was unnerving her about their relationship. The boy may be young, but he would have learned about the taboo surrounding incestuous relationships when studying the history of Targaryens. One word from him, and Robert would have her head for treason and incest, never mind the permanent stain on the noble Lannister reputation. She almost smiled when she imagined the fury and disgust that would inhabit Lord Tywin's face for eternity if he ever found out. Lost deep in thought, Cersei only snapped out of it when she felt Jaime's soft lips pressing against her neck, his hand sliding up her leg.. "No."

"We have the night alone. Are you really going to turn me down tonight?" Feeling almost insulted, Jaime ran a hand through his hair and proceeded to get himself a cup of wine, gulping half of it down in one go.

"You sent the guards away. You know how risky it is. And Myrcella wasn't feeling well earlier, if she needs me.."

"The maester will see to your daughter if need be."

That hurt. "She is your daughter, too!"

"For all intents and purposes, she is a Baratheon. She hardly even knows me." Becoming increasingly frustrated, Jaime slowly walked up to his sister. "Are you fucking someone else, is that it? Who is it?" He said, forcefully pushing his sister onto the bed and talking so close to her face.

Not one to be treated like a fool, not even by Jaime, Cersei pushed him away with all her strength. "There's no one else. The boy seeing us at Winterfell unnerved me, that is all."

"Sweet sister, once Robert is gone, we can marry. I'll kill everyone who opposes us, I promise." Although he was joking, part of him wished he had the guts to do it. If it meant they could legitimately be together, he would slay every man living until they were the last people on earth.

"Like the Targaryens?" She mumbled; once again, all resistance had been charmed away by her brothers silky, appetising words.

"Like the Targaryens." Jaime agreed, laughing as he pulled his sister so she was laying on her back, and clambered gracefully on top of her. As they fumbled happily, all thoughts of unguarded doors, Stark boys and the dangers of incest floated away.

A little while later, the Lannister twins lay together in a beautiful post-coital haze, intertwining their fingers together. They lay in silence for a long time, a comfortable silence; they were so close, so connected that a million words could be spoken without uttering a single noise. Sometimes, it angered them that their relationship was forbidden. To Jaime and Cersei, their love powered over all the relationships and marriages in the Seven Kingdoms.

...

All that could be heard was the dull clank of Ned Stark's boots against the concrete floor. He was on his way back to his chambers after a pretty hard day with the Small Council; taking the job as Hand was never going to be easy, he knew that, but he hadn't reckoned on other people attempting to overrule every decision he made. It was as if he felt opposite to the majority with every issue that arose - the worst, most sickening, case being that of young Daenerys Targaryen.

Varys' little birds had been at it again. "The girl is with child."

Robert's face visibly contorted into fury, and if Ned didn't know him better, he would say the king was almost worried. "The whore is pregnant?"

"Viserys Targaryen married her to a Dothraki not long ago." Varys explained. "There is no need to worry, Your Grace, she is in Pentos. If she even attempts to cross the Narrow Sea, it will be dealt with immediately."

"Worry?" The king bellowed. "I am not worried. I am the rightful king. The girl, her child or her damn brother have no rightful claim to the throne."

Ned narrowed his eyes. "Your Grace, if I may.. there could still be some Targaryen supporters in Westeros." The Hand of the King didn't truly believe it himself, but the War of the Usurper was so bloody, he felt sick at the thought of another.

There was a few silent moments before the king spoke again. He was watching Ned intently, as if his anger was about to flare at the mention of Targaryen supporters, but their friendship prevailed. That calmed Robert Baratheon down a little, but to Ned's dismay, fixed an awful idea into his head. "Fine. Varys, see that the baby is never birthed, and the whore dies."

"What?" Ned almost shouted, exasperated.

"You said that horrific family may still have supporters so I am doing what needs to be done for the realm. I am merely cementing my rightful place on the Iron Throne."

It was almost too much for Eddard to take. Talking of murdering a young girl and an unborn child? He supposed being away from Robert for so long, he hadn't realised how much ruling had changed him. He was no longer the young man who fought with Ned during the War of the Usurper, not the man who helped defend Winterfell from Balon Greyjoy's clutches - the change sickened him, to be frank, but what could he do? He had accepted the job and was constantly teetering on the edge of treason, best friend or no best friend.

Sighing despondently, Ned entered his chambers, and had to do a double take. There on the bed was his son, and not Jon. "Robb?"

"Father!" The boy cried, jumping up and throwing his arms around the man. "The Imp led me to you chambers and let me stay until you arrived."

"What are you doing here?" Ned asked. "You're supposed to be in Winterfell!"

"Mother made me ride out. Something happened after you left." Robb started, cleverly remembering to be cautious. "Will I be safe to discuss it here?"

"I should think so. What is it, son? And who did you ride out with? Surely not alone?"

"I travelled with Ser Rodrik and a couple of North men. Mother wanted to come in my place but she's comforting Bran."

"I understand." Ned sighed; seeing Catelyn, if only for a minute, would have made this whole miserable experience a lot better. "What is so important you had to ride all the way to King's Landing?"

Retelling the tale of the assumed attempted murder attack on his little brother, he wincing every time he saw his fathers face transform - Robb knew that Ned already felt incredibly guilty for leaving Bran when he was unconscious, only to awake, crippled, with his father, two sisters and half-brother nowhere to be seen. "Since the attacker was butchered by Summer, Mother was left only with the blade he used. I have it with me. She says to take it to Petyr Baelish."

"Littlefinger? Why?"

Robb shook his head. "I'm not sure, but she was insistent."

Ned felt nauseous. He now had two things to investigate, two things that could possibly lead back to the Lannisters, and it was incredibly dangerous. His thoughts collided in his brain, smashing against each other with force. Finding away to make Robert see sense about murdering the Targaryen girl was important; Robert could have already sent word to his assassins. But the attempted murder of his son was more important, wasn't it? Shaking his head lightly, he poured himself and his eldest son a cup of wine. In a vague attempt to change the subject, he asked, "Do Jon and the girls know you're here?"

The heir to Winterfell shook his head. "I came straight to your keep. Oh, and the Imp was murmuring something about Jon and legitimacy?"

Ned wasn't surprised; despite his bastard born not making a decision towards Cersei's offer yet, news spread around the capital like wildfire. "The queen offered it to him. You will still be my heir, though."

Robb's eyes widened. "No, no.. I didn't.. I wasn't questioning that! I'm pleased. I hope he takes it. We all think of him as out full brother anyway, although I don't think mother will be too pleased when she hears."

"Yes, well, I think I'll leave telling her to you when you ride back." Ned smiled wryly, vividly imagining Catelyn's unamused reaction in his mind.

"I'm going to stay for a few nights, if that's okay, Father?" Robb gulped down the rest of his wine and told his father that he was going to find his siblings.

After making sure his eldest son had left, Eddard went to the Hand's Tower and sat behind the desk, pulling open the huge book he had acquired from Pycelle. It was he last book Jon Arryn had been reading - Lineages of the Great Houses.

* * *

Promise the chapters will get longer soon, and I'll be writing quicker, too.


	7. Stranger

AN: I have two things to apologise for. 1 - I haven't updated in a ridiculously long time (I don't imagine any of you noticed but if you did, sorry!) and 2. One of the things I've been getting in the reviews is that the chapters are too short, and after saying I'd make sure they got longer, this happens to be the shortest so far! I am ridiculously bad at updating.

But, anyway, here it is. I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

* * *

The Stark brothers' boredom was horribly intensified by the lack of their siblings. As they lounged aimlessly under a tree watching squires and knights alike run around the tourney grounds, attempting to set everything up before it started, they even would have welcomed Sansa's company, if only to playfully tease her about her mad love for Prince Joffrey and maybe even attempt to change her mind about the vile boy. So far today, their only entertainment had been watching Arya refuse to go with her sister and Septa Mordane after the family broke their fast together, in favour of spending the day with Robb and Jon.

"Are you going to enter?" Robb asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

"The tourney?" Jon affectionately scratched the fur on Ghosts neck. "No, I don't think so."

"Why not? You're a decent swordsman."

Jon chuckled. "Yeah, I know, but I don't think the Queen would take too kindly to the Hand's bastard un-horsing her dear brother."

"You really think you could beat Jaime Lannister?" The heir to Winterfell mocked playfully. "More like Tyrion."

"If it was a measure of intelligence rather than strength, the Imp would beat every knight in Westeros."

Robb rested his head against the rough trunk, beginning to enjoy the feeling of the shards of sunlight that managed to escape through the cracks in the branches. He decided to stay for a couple of weeks, at least until the tourney was over. Hopefully, his mother would be too focused on Bran to notice her eldest sons absence; Robb had been rather enjoying spending time with Jon, his sisters and his father and getting to know a brand new world. King's Landing was full of potential discovery, and as Jon and Robb were almost men grown, they no longer had to have lessons. With that on his mind, he said, "Have you had chance to explore yet?"

"Not really. I've had quite a lot on my mind with the Queen and Arya's sword lessons.. why, what have you got in mind?"

Robb grinned. "Follow me, little brother."

...

"I thought you were meant to be the sensible one of the family?" Jon questioned; he didn't know whether to do all in his power to prevent Robb from doing this, or to let his inquisitive nature prevail. Robb decided the best place for a bit of fun was the Red Keep dungeons. How they were going to get past the guards, he didn't know - but he followed anyway.

"Where's your sense of adventure, Jon Snow?"

"What about the guards? It doesn't matter who our father is, they won't let us past."

"Let me do all the talking." Robb said as they arrived at the doors. Pushing it open gently, their luck was in; they entered to a table full of sleeping guardsmen. One was rather chubby, emitting an air of oafishness as he lay back on his chair, mouth open. The others had their heads comfortably on the table. "Come on, before they wake up."

The first floor of the Red Keep's dungeons usually housed high-born criminals, but the two boys found some rather odd inhabitants. Almost as soon as they entered, the warm stench of stale sweat wafted up their noses; whoever was in here could not be high-born.

"Who's there?" A rough voice called out. "Do you have water?"

"What's your name?" Robb asked confidently, moving his candle closer to the bars of the cell. The light showed a young woman, who couldn't have been much older than himself. Her hair was the colour of fire, and pretty features were clear underneath the dirt scattered across her face.

"You first."

"I'm.." Robb stuttered; it would be wise not to give their real identities. "I'm Robb, and this is my brother, Jon. We're squires for the Tyrion Lannister."

"Yeah." Jon added, rather unhelpfully. "So.. what's your name then?"

"Ygritte." she sighed. "I might as well answer the rest of the questions you clearly have, even though I'm still not sure why you're so interested. It could be a trap but I'm already in a cell, what's the worst that could happen? I'm a wilding from beyond the wall."

"How did you get so far south?" asked Jon; there was something about this girl. She was the most refreshing person he'd met since arriving here. "How did you even get past the wall?"

"Anyone can get past the wall if they know the right way. My mother died birthing me, and my father was a useless bastard if ever there was one. He was a wilding man but decided to join the Night's Watch when I was fifteen. Why, I have no idea, but he sold me to some down and out traveller. I got to King's Landing through him." Ygritte explained, her words full of casual resentment. "Why do you want to know, anyway? Are you spying for the Imp?"

"Are all wildings so rude?"

"If you think that's rude, squire boy, I think you need to grow a thicker skin."

The candle began burning a bit too rapidly, melting the hot wax as it went. Jon, ever the domestic one, realised they didn't have much time. "So what are you in here for? Our candle is going to go out so we'll have to go soon."

"Shame." Ygritte's voice was like liquid gold, tumbling out of her mouth beautifully. "I haven't seen a pretty face like yours in a while." She laughed heartily when the boy blushed. "I stole some bread. That's all."

"They wouldn't throw you in the Red Keep dungeons for that." said Robb. He may not have ventured out of Winterfell for a long time, but he knew the ways of the world. King Robert kept these cells for high-born's, so as not to start unnecessary wars by offending the lord father of a criminal. "What did you really do?"

"I stole some bread." She repeated, her fiery hair beginning to match the colour of her ever reddening, angry cheeks. "You two better go before the guards wake up, unless you feel like a public whipping. And if you are spying for the Imp, tell him to show his own ugly face next time."

...

The biggest source of embarrassment to Jon Snow, since birth, was his parentage. Ever since he was old enough to understand what being born out of wedlock entailed, he felt a deep sense of shame, as if being born was his own fault. But he settled into it and made it his own, a part of him, made friends with his siblings and ignored Lady Catelyn's steely glares of resentment. No, his parentage did not trouble him as it had in his younger years; there was something bigger digging into his mind, grasping at just the right buttons to enable crippling self-conciousness - his maidenhood. The strange thing was, Jon only realised how much he wanted rid of it when he met the mysterious wilding in the dungeon. At first, she knocked him for six. King's Landing was bad enough to get your head around, only to meet a girl kissed by fire that made his manhood twitch. It was confusion on top of confusion, but there was one thing Jon knew for certain - he wanted to see her again.


	8. The Tourney

AN: Sorry for the delay! I get distracted way too easily. I hope this chapter is worth it!

One thing though - I'm not great at writing fights. I gave it my best shot. Thanks for all the reviews/favourites/follows. Let me know what you think!

I've also posted a one-shot called "Father, Mother, Warrior, Maiden, Smith, Crone, Stranger." Check it out if you like.

* * *

Flecks of mud sprayed up from the floor when the base-born boy passed on his horse, lance hanging awkwardly from his hand. The inexperience in him was clear, especially when unfairly touted against young knights and high-born lads. Nevertheless, Robert Baratheon cheered drunkenly from the royal box. He was drinking wine as easily as water, so the distinction between clumsiness and honed skill went unnoticed, just like the not-so-subtle looks of disgust coming from his lady wife. To the side of them sat their children; Joffrey was unamused, though Tommen and Myrcella seemed utterly captivated.

Evening began to fall, and there was one pairing left to fight in the melee. The king, clutching his wine, shouted: "Let's get this damn thing over with before I die of thirst! There's wine to be drank in the feasting hall." His laughter boomed and, of course, the crowds followed suit. "The Knight of the Flowers, and Jon Snow!"

Loras Tyrell's magnificence radiated from him the moment he stepped onto the grounds. Even without a horse, each step was gracious and the ladies in the crowd swooned at the mere sight of him. He walked to the Stark family, seated under the Royal box. It had been arranged for Robb to ride back to Winterfell that morning - he had duties to fulfil, according to a rather homesick Ser Rodrik - but when Jon entered the melee, he pleaded with his father to let him stay just one night longer, to watch.

Sansa Stark let a giggle escape her lips as the knight stopped in front of her, and pulled a crimson petalled flower from behind his back. "A rose for the lady."

"Thank-you, Ser." She replied courteously, remembering her lessons. When Loras left to begin the fight, Sansa clutched Ned's arm worriedly. "Jon won't hurt him, will he?"

"Jon will fight fairly, I'm sure." The Hand reassured. "Look, it's starting."

Jon Snow could feel the eyes boring into him. Here he was, the bastard of Winterfell, about to compete against one of the most adored knights in the kingdoms. The sword he borrowed from the armoury felt flimsy and strange in his hand, but he wanted to impress. There was something about the capital that made him want to prove himself. Back home, he would have just silently brooded when robbed of the chance to show his worth. It was a tourney held in honour of his father. He wouldn't let him down.

Tyrell managed to land a blow first. His sword hit Jon's shoulder, so the boy quickly retaliated with a sharp jab to the knights chest. The sound of their steel meeting in the air rang through the grounds, mixed with energetic grunts and shouts from the crowd. The two of them danced for a while, landing fairly equal amount of blows to each other. Breaking through Jon's furious concentration was the bellows coming from the Royal box: "Get it over with!" "Knock him down!" It wasn't clear whose side His Grace was on - until Snow charged at Tyrell, timing it perfectly so his attention was averted. Loras' sword came flying from his hand as he fell to the floor. There was uproar from the spectators.

Loras Tyrell felt blood trickle from his head. Uncharacteristically, he shouted: "I yield!"

"Finally!" Robert Baratheon drained his horn, and stood up. The sarcasm was evident in his voice as he offered his condolences to Loras. "How does it feel to be beaten by a boy? Never mind. Let the feast begin!"

* * *

Cersei Lannister had never felt more empowered. She truly believed she had a mind as cunning as her fathers, and the success she felt she had orchestrated today only fuelled that belief. She sent her hand-maidens away, and awaited the arrival of her twin brother, itching to boast of her brilliance.

"I told you the boy was good." The queen said, smiling proudly.

"Sweet sister, I like to see you happy, but I'm struggling to see how Jon Snow winning a tourney benefits you in any way. If you might explain," Jaime poured himself a cup of wine as he spoke, sensing he may be here for a while. "I would appreciate it. It also keeps me away from your drunken fool of a husband."

"The boy is Ned Stark's bastard."

"I am aware. Cersei, I am in no mood for riddles. Please just come out with it. What are you up to?"

"I want you to offer him a place on the Kingsguard."

Jaime closed his eyes, hoping he hadn't heard his sister speak those words. He sighed, and moved closer to her, so close that they could feel each others breath on their faces. It was comfortable close, though. "And why would I do a thing like that? I don't have the power, and even if I did, Snow having one success does not make him The Mountain. I would be laughed at for even suggesting it." He spoke softly and lovingly, treasuring the rare time alone with his sister, even when the madness was on her.

She pushed him away, but there was no real force behind it. "Train him. Make him your squire. Make him the next Jaime Lannister, I don't care. Stark has already started asking questions, brother. And I don't like it."

"What kind of questions?"

"Lord Varys is not the only one with spies. Stark visited one of Robert's bastards, the same one Jon Arryn visited shortly before his.. illness." The queens face contorted into frustration, though she covered it with a sly smirk. "Bastard are clingy. Bastards in Snow's position more-so. He was never shown a flicker of love from Catelyn Stark. He's always been motherless, loveless. If you take him under your wing, he will respect you. He'll tell you what his father is up to without even realising."

Jaime almost laughed. This was definitely in the running for worst plan Cersei had ever come up with. "The Starks are notoriously honourable. I love you, Cersei, but this plan is flawed in so many ways." He drained his wine, struggling to keep the amusement from his face. "I have to go. It's nearing the end of the feast and the rest of the guards will need my help escorting Robert back to his chambers. I will play no part in this, sister, I will not be made to look a fool." He moved to the door.

"I clearly put my trust in the wrong people. If the truth comes out, our heads will decorate spikes." said Cersei with bitterness. "There are wrose things to look than a fool, Jaime, you would do well to remember that." And then he left. Undefeated, the queen dropped onto a cushioned stood in front of her mirror. _A woman makes her own way in a man's world. _

* * *

AN: I apologise for the length. It was actually supposed to be longer but I hate feeling like I'm forcing myself to write, so I left it there. I know I strayed away from Ygritte being in KL, mainly because I wish I never did that now! But I did, so I'll come back to it at some point. The next chapter will sort of be like a part 2 to this, and there won't be a massive wait again because I have loads of time off now.

ENJOY! X


	9. The Feast

**Jon**

The grin on Jon's face had never been more genuine. Gone was the smouldering look of intensity that was stereotypically him, replaced by a smile that brightened up his face and helped him to look his age. On his next name-day he would be six-and-ten, a man grown, and that wasn't more than a moons turn away. People often commented on his maturity, but it didn't bother him; it was the way a boy with no name had to be to survive, even one who had been acknowledged by his father and grew up in a castle, with all the privileges of a high-born boy; a good education and arms training, never going hungry for a day. All of that was forgotten now, though, as he celebrated with his family, the happiest night he had spent in King's Landing so far.

When he saw the exhausted looking serving girls at the feast, Jon decided to make an effort to thank them each time they brought a new dish. The food was magnificent, consisting of what seemed like endless amounts of courses of various peppered meats, starting with a full roast chicken per table, and ending with stewed venison decorated with an assortment of vegetables. There was bowls of bacon and potatoes, and the desserts were splendid. Jon had been seated with his family, contrasting to the way he would be shunted into the background at Winterfell feasts; Lady Catelyn's influence, of course. Now, he was eating some of the best food he had ever tasted, surrounded by three of his siblings and a handful of his fathers men, men who had suddenly turned into cheerful raconteurs after a few horns of ale.

His sisters reactions were comically different. Sansa smiled graciously, but seemed genuine when she told Jon she was pleased nobody got hurt. She obviously meant Loras, but Jon took it as a compliment anyway. It was these little flickers that led Jon to start believing the capital was altering Sansa's opinion of him; maybe it was because she was missing her brothers back in Winterfell. Whatever it was, Jon quite liked it.

Arya, however, didn't hold back on her excitement. As soon as the King called an end to the tourney, declared the winners of each events and opened the feasting hall, she escaped the watchful eye of her Septa and jumped on Jon, almost knocking him over in surprise. Her mousy-brown hair was falling from the southern style it had been teased up into, and her eyes sparkled with pride. She bombarded him with praise and questions, and hadn't stopped.

"Does this mean you're a knight now? Bran will be so jealous! I am _not _calling you ser, though."

He laughed. "I'm not a knight, little sister. Nor will I ever be. I only beat one man."

"You shouldn't be so modest, Jon." Jory Cassel, looking flushed from the wine, counselled. "You didn't just beat anyone. Tyrell is renowned in the Seven Kingdoms. You will do yourself no harm to be proud, but don't let it go to your head. Hone your skills, know your weapons. Practice is key."

"Your uncle was a good teacher." Jon, suddenly remembering, turned to Robb and smiled. "Didn't we have a wager on? Don't think you can run back to Winterfell without paying!"

Robb retorted, playfully: "I wagered you couldn't beat the Kingslayer, not Tyrell." He pulled out a handful of coins from his pocket. "Even so, here. Call it an early name-day gift, seeing as though I won't be here for it."

The mention of Robb's imminent departure tensed the atmosphere. Sansa spoke. "Do you _have _to leave? Why can't you stay? Send ravens to Winterfell and get mother to ride here with Bran and Rickon!"

"I can't stay, sister. I'm heir to Winterfell, I have to be there when Father is not."

"Why did you come here in the first place, then?" Arya asked, not intending her words to sound so harsh. "It's a long ride for a visit, especially when it wasn't a special occasion."

Robb gently ruffled the girls hair, explaining how boring it is back at Winterfell without the three of them. He let out a breath of relief when Arya changed the subject for him, telling the whole table how brilliant her dancing master, Syrio, is - but Jon noticed the flash of panic in his brothers eyes and the hesitant way he answered. Making a mental note to ask him about it later, he refilled his cup and rejoined the conversation.

Evening grew nearer, and the skies darkened. Robb and Jon said goodbye to their sisters, and made their way back to their chambers, feeling dizzy from the wine.

"Have you enjoyed them, then?"

Robb creased his eyebrows, slightly confused. "Enjoyed what?"

"The parties your mother has been throwing in celebration of me leaving." japed Jon. They laughed together, their heart chuckles reverberating off the empty corridors walls.

Robb didn't like the way his mother treated Jon; the only time he had ever brought it up with her had been the last. He was young, and didn't completely understand the difference between their births. Lady Stark sharply dismissed her sons questions, and Robb never brought it up again. "She's been a bit pre-occupied with Bran."

"Of course. How is he?"

"He's just.. angry. He always wanted to be a knight of the Kingsguard, and that can't happen now." The words were falling out of his mouth aggressively, and it was clear he, too, felt angry about the whole situation. "You know him, Jon. He doesn't fall, he never falls."

"What are you saying?" Jon asked, though he feared he knew the answer. He had hoped to get back to the safety of their chambers before having this conversation.

It was well known that Lord Varys had eyes and ears all over the city, and with the amount of wine the teenagers had drank tonight, it wouldn't do to have something important being overheard. Plus, Jon wasn't stupid. Whatever the reason Robb rode south was, it was important. _There must always be a Stark in Winterfell_; he had heard his father use this term half a hundred times. There was no way Lady Catelyn would let the heir come south without good reason.

"I'm saying," Robb spoke softly, cautiously, "that I think Bran was pushed."

"But.. but who would do that? He's just a boy."

"I don't know." The heir to Winterfell shook his head, fury rising in him. "I don't know, but when I find out, all the men in the Seven Kingdoms won't be able to protect them. Mother was going to ride out herself, but Bran needed her. Someone sent a man to open Bran's throat. Summer ripped out the attackers throat, so all we have to go on is the blade I brought with me."

The information relayed to him by his brother rendered him speechless. He had heard of treachery and deceit in the tales and the songs, but never had it first-hand affected him or his family. For once, he was grateful to see his chambers. Pausing outside of the door, Jon mumbled, "Gods. You tell me first when you discover who it was, brother. They might have knives and assassins, but we have dire-wolves." There was a glint of mischief in his eyes, but the sombreness constantly on him was still there.

Robb Stark smiled, running a hand tiredly through his mop of curly hair. "Goodnight, brother."

"Goodnight, Stark. I'll come and see you off in the morning."

* * *

**Tyrion **

King's Landing bored Tyrion. No, that was an unfair judgement; the Red Keep bored him. The lords and ladies tolerated him because of his last name, he knew that, so his japes and witticisms often went unappreciated. Forced laughter was never as satisfying as genuine. Tyrion complained about this to his elder brother once; Jaime had no sympathy, and told him if he wanted to make people laugh he should have joined a mummer's troupe. The two of them had laughed and laughed, imagining their lord father's reaction. A Lannister travelling the Seven Kingdom's with the mummers? Poor Tywin's heart might have combusted at the very thought.

It was why he chose to spend his time in the capital outside of the gates. He would find ale and a feather bed in a brothel, with the added bonus of a girl or two to keep him warm at night. He much preferred this lifestyle to one of that inside the gates but this morning, after he broke his fast with a particularly lovely Lysene girl, he reluctantly made his way back up. There was something he needed to do.

Tyrion found his intended at the gates. Robb Stark and Jon Snow chatted idly as they waited for Winterfell's master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel, pack up the horses ready for them to venture north.

"Stark, Snow!" Lannister strained his neck looking up at the two teenagers, trying not to let it show. Six-and-ten, and taller than he will ever be. "I hoped to find you here, or at least you, Robb."

Robb clearly bore the same natural wariness as his father when it came to the Lannisters. "What is it?"

"Your brother, Bran. How is he?"

"Frustrated. He can't walk."

"A tragedy, we all agree." Tyrion placed a hand in the pocket of his breeches and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. He unfolded it carefully, and handed it to a confused-looking Robb. "Give this to your saddler. He will provide the rest. With the right horse and saddle even a cripple can ride."

Robb showed Jon the paper before speaking. Stark simply said: "Don't call him a cripple."

"Why not? The boy has lost the use of his legs. If he's not a cripple, I'm not a dwarf. My father will rejoice to hear it."

Snow spoke next. The sun was beating down heavily onto them, bringing out soft beads of sweat onto their foreheads; what a group they must have looked. A lord, a bastard and a dwarf. Jon's steely eyes were focused intently on Tyrion. Projected onto the wrong person, that intense stare could make a man piss his breeches. "Why do you want to help him, Lannister?"

Tyrion of House Lannister grinned. "Oh, I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things."

* * *

AN: Sorry for the lame ending, and the rather short Tyrion POV. There was supposed to be more happening, but my chapters never go as I intend AND my laptop is going to die, so.. yeah.

So it's goodbye to Robb.. for now! I think we'll be seeing him soon, if all goes to plan.

Big thank-you to Patrick, Kirk-Vamp-Fan, musicgal100189, harrylee94, stark22, Luwen, Hugh and everyone else who has reviewed and given me their support with this fic. You're all so brilliant. X


	10. The Question

**Jaime **

The revulsion powering through his body was too much to bear. Jaime Lannister was a sworn brother of the Kings-guard, though; how he felt on the inside was relative. All that mattered was the happiness and safety of his king, his brother by marriage. His sweet sisters husband, who was unashamedly fucking whores in the room which Jaime stood watch. He had accepted long ago that his and Cersei's relationship was forbidden - apparently, incest is only deemed fit for dragons - so much so, that sometimes Jaime started to wonder whether he was being forced to hear the oafs grunts of pleasure as some kind of sick punishment from the gods.

This was not what he signed up for when he was raised to the Kings-guard. Aerys Targaryen destroyed any kind of romanticism the eldest Lannister boy had had about living in close proximity to his sister when he ordered Jaime back to King's Landing to protect Queen Rhella and Prince Viserys; the pride Jaime felt at his achievement was diminished when he realised his new-found fortune was only handed to him to slight his lord father. The resentment never showed a flicker of fading, not even when Jaime so effortlessly slid his sword into the Mad Kings back.

He had been thinking rather a lot about Cersei's idea of raising Jon Snow to his squire. He could ask, at least. The boy was likely to turn him down but by asking, Jaime would rile Ned Stark and get himself well and truly back into Cersei's good books. It wouldn't hurt to suggest, but if Snow said yes..

_I pushed his half-brother through a window, I rendered him a cripple. If that information was to ever be uncovered, having Snow in such closeness would be an incredibly dangerous move, especially with that temper. Ah, I would not even be able to hold Jon a hostage if need be. The Starks would laugh in my face. _

That was the thing about Jaime Lannister - beneath that utterly calm exterior hid a man who analysed every decision, every movement. It worked well in battle, where you had to be sharp to survive, but sometimes it was a hindrance.

He knew one thing, though. He needed Tyrion's help.

* * *

Jaime found his little brother in the chambers he rarely slept in. He heard an "Enter!" from inside, and Jaime did as such. He discovered Tyrion with his head in a large book, a fire burning heartily in the heath.

"Really, Tyrion, a fire, in this weather?"

"It seems I spent a little too much time in Winterfell. I notice the chills now." The little man closed his book, a sprinkle of dust exploding into the air as he did. "What do you want?"

"Does there have to be a reason?" said Jaime, rather unconvincingly."You spend too much time reading." He almost sneered at the last word. Jaime read only when it was necessary; Lord Tywin might have thought he was helping the boy by forcing him to study four hours a day, when really, it simply intensified his hatred. "What is it this time? The children of the forest? The Others?"

"Dragons."

"The dragons have been dead for centuries."

"It doesn't make them any less interesting. You never know, Westeros might see them return one day." Tyrion grinned at the thought. He had always wanted to see a dragon, ever since he was a little boy. "Stranger things have happened."

"You need to cut out the wine, little brother. I need your.. counsel."

That got Tyrion's attention. He grabbed two goblets, a flagon of wine, and poured. "Well, this is an unexpected turn of events."

"Our dear sister," explained Jaime, unperturbed by the snort of derision from Tyrion. There was no love lost between the two of them, Jaime knew that, but he suspected it was largely down to Cersei's prejudices, rather than Tyrion's lack of effort. He continued: "thinks I should take Ned Stark's bastard for my squire."

He watched as his brothers face transformed in front of him. Surprise, amusement, then contemplation.. and Jaime felt he could almost hear the cogs whirring in his brain. There was times, despite the respect he had for his father, when he let himself wonder _why _Tywin has such disgust for his younger son. There was the obvious, of course. Tyrion's deformities were common in the Free Cities and even Westeros, but they were rarely seen on the sons of lords, rather making their living entertaining at weddings and on city streets. Nevertheless, to Jaime, Tyrion's intelligence surely made up for his unavoidable flaws.

"I don't quite know what you're asking me, Jaime."

_I take back everything I said about his remarkable intelligence. _"Gods, I am asking you if I should! She's up to something, and I'm not sure what it is, and I'm not sure if I want to get involved. That said, King's Landing is painfully boring, as I'm sure you're aware, and the boy shows potential."

"The hunting trip with Robert is coming up, is it not?"

Bitterly, Jaime confirmed. "We set off the night after next." Wine-fuelled hunting trips with the King were tedious; this time, he had struggled to find a sufficient excuse to stay behind. He was dreading it. Robert Baratheon, Lancel Lannister and a couple of the other Kings-guard - it wasn't Jaime's idea of fun. "What of it?"

"Offer him squirehood, he will be tentative, naturally. Invite him along to the hunt, impress him. He'll be all yours, if that's what you want."

Jaime absorbed the advice, drained his cup and got up to leave. "Do me a favour, and don't repeat this conversation. I wouldn't want Ned Stark on my case before I've even asked the boy."

"I won't be able to." said Tyrion, cryptically. "I'm going north tonight, to the Wall."

"Gods, why would you want to go there? It may be spectacular to look at, but it's horribly cold and full of rapers and thieves." He almost physically recoiled; hunting with Robert Baratheon was half a hundred times more appealing than the Wall, to Jaime anyway.

"I want to stand on top and piss off the edge of the world."

* * *

**Jon **

Ghost directed a piercing howl to the skies. It didn't worry Jon Snow - the wolf was excited, stretching his legs after a period cooped up in an abandoned stable. The queen, in all her manufactured offence, demanded of her husband that the dire-wolves be dealt with. She was clearly hoping for the involvement or Ser Ilyn; the King agreed that the beasts could pose a threat if not trained carefully, but also acknowledged that they were special.

And so two unused stables, outside of the Red Keep gates, were found for Ghost and Lady. They became somewhat of an attraction for the young children of the city; too often would Jon arrive to find a rabble of dirty-faced children in dirty clothes huddled around the pen, gasping in awe at one of the only dire-wolves to be seen for hundreds of years. He truly wished he could have Ghost at his ankles, as did Sansa with Lady, but it was safer this way.

"Ghost!" he shouted; evening was falling, and his stomach was rumbling. "Come."

"He grows fast."

Jon Snow spun on his heels so fast that he had to grab the stable door to steady himself. The initial shock faded away and the boy managed to put name to face. "Ser Jaime." He bowed clumsily. _Why is Jaime Lannister this far out of the Keep? _"To what do I owe the pleasu-"

The knight cut him off. "Please, spare me your false courtesies. I'm just going to get this over with and I want a straight answer. Actually, no, I'll give you a day to consider. How would you like to be my squire, Snow?"

He suddenly remembered how confused his father was when Jon told him about the Queen's legitimization offer - Eddard couldn't understand why they would want anything to do with Jon. _The bastard of Winterfell. _His father promised Jon he would find out what was going on, that he wouldn't entangle him in the bitter world of politics, but Lord Stark seemed to sullen these days, so interested in strange books and matters of the Hand.

"Is this a trick?"

"Gods, you don't share your fathers name, but you certainly share his suspicion. I am simply offering you to make a name for yourself in your own right, Snow. I know all about my sisters offer. If you accept my offer instead, you will be raised to a knight in a few years, and given the opportunity to take a name for yourself. Be it Stark, or something else."

Ghost was sniffing around Lannister's ankles now; Jon had to wrench back his smile as the fierce knight tried not flinch. "So, I serve you. I bring your food and wine, clean your weapons, that sort of thing.." _A slave. _"All for the sake of a name?"

"It's just an offer, Jon. Make a decision, and soon. I will be attending a hunt with King Robert the day after next, and you could always join." Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, smiled. The moonlight accentuated his handsome features, his jutting cheekbones ever more prominent. "Do think upon my offer. I am a busy man, and there's hundreds of boys in the capital who would take my hand off to squire me. I bid you goodnight, Jon Snow."

* * *

AN: I hope I got Jaime's character right. He's one of my favourites. Again, not much happening in this chapter but the hunt is coming up - so it's all going to kick off soon enough! Also, I realised I hadn't really addressed the dire-wolf situation, so that's for the people asking in the reviews.

Thanks for all the reviews and reads, as always, you're lovely. Couple of questions I want to address, though.

Patrick - We will be seeing Robb again, if all goes to plan. I write as I go along, though, which is why you've probably noticed a couple of plot-holes along the way. It's going to be different from the books, but I'm hoping he'll be quite a main character, and I'll be having a couple of Robb POV's.

Harrylee94 - Hope I sort of looked at the legitimacy thing here. Again, ^ plot-holes. But I will get back to it soon.

CloudyDream - I'm not sure they'll be any JonxCersei.. but you never know! Stranger things have happened.

Enjoy. X


	11. Changes

AN: This is going to be quite a long winded author's note, so brace yourselves. First of all I'd like to say thanks to everyone who has followed/favorited/reviewed even though I'm the worst updater in the history of updater's. The massive gap between updating is the reason I feel bad about this chapter, because I don't think it's what you're expecting, and I just hope it works.

See the thing is, I've always had a plan for this story but I had to get some stuff out of the way first (e.g Robert dying, Ned dying, Robb calling the banners ect. I wanted to write Robb calling the banners but didn't get round to it, mainly because I've left so many plotholes I've made it so hard for myself.) So I've tried something new in this chapter. I'm not confident, and I may delete it or rewrite, but let me know what you think first. I've done it like this so I can start writing more of my own ideas, rather than following the books so much. I think once I can start to do that, I'll be able to update more.

This is only short too. Basically it's a little bit of a filler.

Right. Annoyingly long AN out of the way.. let me know what you think of this chapter please. If you don't like it, I'm sorry! And sorry for the wait. Again.

* * *

**Jon**

"Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

The boy king Joffrey's words rang prominently in his head, they wouldn't leave. Wine wouldn't dull it, sleep didn't come. Flashes of Arya's bewilderment, of Sansa's weeping, of the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that wrapped itself firmly around Jon, never to leave - it was all too much, and so much had changed in less than moons turn.

Robert Baratheon, First of His Name was savaged by a boar on a hunt, the same hunt Jon was supposed to be attending. The Queen had put a stop to that, demanding of her twin brother that he be kept away from the royal expedition, squire or no squire. As always, the Kingslayer met her demands. Squiring had turned out to be the dull experience Eddard had warned his son of. When he found out, he wasn't angry. He simply said: "I didn't have you down as one who enjoys servitude." The words had stung, but they were memories now.

When Lord Eddard Stark was arrested on grounds of treason, Jaime Lannister kept the boy close. Jon noticed; there was no point trying to get away. All he could do was support his father and protect his sisters. He couldn't draw attention to himself, it was too potentially harmful. There was always a nag at the back of his mind, though - his father was not a liar. He had no interest in the Iron Throne. If he proclaimed Joffrey Baratheon to be no true heir to the throne then he must be speaking the truth. There was simply no reason for him to lie, and he would not betray the son of his best friend.

None of it mattered now. Eddard Stark was dead. Robb Stark was marching South with his banner-men, and Jon Snow was a captive of Jaime Lannister. Jon had been a fool. The Kingslayer promised him that the Queen would treat Sansa kindly, on the condition that Jon stayed as his squire. They never referred to it as captive, but it was obvious that's what it was. In hindsight, Jon should have realised he is worth virtually nothing and protected his sister himself, even if it meant risking his life. He should not have rode with Lannister and his guardsmen. But he did, and he was glad. It put him on the road to Robb. If he was going to join the fight, he was going to do it on the right side.

It had been barely a moons turn since the death of his father though the event was so clear in his head it could have been yesterday. The wretched boy king commanded and his sickeningly loyal followers obeyed. Even his own mother couldn't change his mind. Jon had heard a rumour that King Joffrey was going to allow Ned to take the black and live out the rest of his days in exile. Joffrey was rotten to the core, to a point that no maester could heal.

Despite the chaos surrounding the beheading, with Jaime Lannister's men on his heels, Jon managed to find Arya. The odds of it were exceptionally low but the gods work in different ways, and though all he wanted to do was get up there and wrench a screaming Sansa from the arms of one of the Kingsguard, he managed to pull his eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of him. He noticed a little bundle of rags being dragged into an alley by a man who he vaguely recognised. He followed, intrigued.

"Get away from her!" shouted Jon. The bundle was indeed his little sister, Arya. She was pushed up against the wall by the man, who had a knife held up to her face. His hand automatically went to his hip, to the sheath of his sword.

"If you want your brother to live, you'll shut up and you'll do it quickly." The man's voice was gruff and demanding.

"I'm not a boy!" Arya reaffirmed for what must have been the thousandth time in her young life. Jon had heard her shout those words so many times, but never in that tone of voice. She sounded like she had given up, like all the fight had left her. It was heartbreaking.

"You're not a smart boy. Do you want to live, boy?"

And then Jon realised. "You're the man from the Night's Watch."

"Yoren." said Yoren. He proceeded to hack at Arya's hair, and all Jon could do was watch. None of this was happening. It was all too surreal. "We're going North, boy."

"Will you see her back to Winterfell safely?" asked Jon, beginning to understand what was going on. Arya Stark, daughter of traitor Ned Stark, would be a valuable trading item in these coming times. It was why Jon wasn't fearful. His life was worth nothing. Lady Catelyn wouldn't trade any captives for him, and he wasn't certain Robb would, either. If he died, he died. But first he would see his sisters safe.

"I will if you stop asking questions, boy! We haven't got much time."

"Jon, you have to come with us!"

For a second, Jon's strength faltered. "I can't do that, little sister. If I make it out of King's Landing alive, I have to find Robb. He will have called the banners. I don't want to frighten you but there will be war. I have to fight. I have to fight for Father."

If the situation wasn't so tragic, Jon might have been amused at the way Arya adjusted herself. Within a second she stood tall, strong, and looked so much older than her years. She had seen all the things children should never see and they were evident all over her face as she looked at her older brother and said: "He's gone. They killed him, Jon. If there's a war, you have to win. You and Robb."

Yoren had watched with quiet respect but obviously felt it was time to move. "Come on, boy. We have to leave now. Your name is Arry, alright? What is your name?"

"Arry."

"Good. Now keep your head down."

The last words Jon heard from his little sister was a mumbled 'love you' while Yoren pulled her away. Tears stung his eyes and he refused to let them fall. The boy king and his family of sadists would not win.


	12. We Will Be A Threat

**Jaime**

War. Everything revolved around war, and Jaime Lannister was tired. He was a kingsguard but the king was dead and Joffrey sat on the Iron Throne, starting fights by making reckless decisions with absolutely nothing to gain from them. Ned Stark was insufferable but he was adored by the North; unsurprisingly, they had rose up against the crown to defend their liege lords honour.

"My lord, we've arrived at Lord Tywin's camp." said an unrecognisable voice, one of his men whose name he failed to remember.

When Jaime heard his father had rallied the bannermen and set up camp, it was the first time the seriousness of the situation really hit home. It wasn't just Robb Stark craving revenge. It was war. Joffrey may be king but Cersei and the small council would undoubtedly be pulling his strings however they could. If they hadn't attempted a peace negotiation, then Tywin wouldn't either. He started a war for the son he despised, and he would win it for the grandson half of the realm despised.

He told Tytos Brax to keep a close eye on the northern bastard before making his way to his father's tent. It would not do for the boy to escape before Tywin even learned of his captivity. Captivity wasn't the word they were using though. Rather cleverly, Jaime thought, they were referring to it as a mutual agreement. Snow didn't try to run, and Jaime would do all he could to make sure the boy's sisters were not mistreated. He couldn't do much, of course, but Snow had a wonderful naivety for a boy his age.

Jaime found Lord Tywin in his tent, brooding over what looked like a large pile of papers. That didn't surprise Jaime. What did surprise him was his little brother, Tyrion, sat at the table next to his uncle, Kevan Lannister. Tyrion's face screamed discomfort despite always getting on with their uncle, not to mention the rather large goblet of wine in front of him.

"Jaime." Tywin Lannister said formally, his voice deep and dominant as always. "We weren't expecting you until sundown."

"We are on the brink of civil war. I rode fast."

"Shouldn't you be guarding our new king?" asked Jaime's little brother, his voice mocking. Tyrion had never tried to cover his feelings towards their nephew. He had even struck Joffrey on occasion; he would only try that now if he felt the desire to lose a hand.

"This is more important, brother. I see you didn't make it to the Wall?"

"I made it halfway. I heard the news that our repulsive nephew had chopped off Ned Stark's head, and decided it was not wise to be so close to Winterfell when a Lannister head would be as pleasurable as a flagon of wine for the northerners."

"So you rushed back to the aid of your family."

"Of course. I'm a Lannister. It's my duty." Tyrion grinned at him like they were two people having a personal jape. Jaime detected amusement in his undertones; it was rare, even for Tyrion, to reveal his true feelings about the family in front of their father.

Tywin Lannister was watching them with that still, furious facial expression painted all over his features. The papers in front of him were spread haphazardly on the table, making Jaime wonder if his father wasn't organised, as uncharacteristic as that would be. The war had barely begun, but it was brewing, and Lord Tywin always had a plan.

He delivered. Jaime was to take half of their forces - 30,000 men - and storm the Riverlands. An easy job for a well-established soldier like him; the only drawback was the distance between himself and his sister. He missed her already. Her husband was a rotting corpse, yet they still could not be together. He knew it was an impossibility, she knew it was an impossibility. Nevertheless, they belonged together. They came into this world together; the world created the barriers they face.

* * *

**Jon**

"Snow," Lannister says later that night, when the sun is setting behind the mountains. Jon can hear only Ghost's heavy panting and the soft crackling of the fire, then the Kingslayer's silky tones drift into audibility. "Saddle my horse. We are riding in an hour."

"It's dark."

"Very observant." he drawls, his voice patronising. "It's better that way."

Jon Snow bites his lip. There is an urge on him - he could stand up, unsheathe Lannister's steel and open his throat. It would be the end of his own life but Jon would die satisfied. Lost in his internal monologue he remembers a phrase he had once heard Arya use. _Quick as a shadow. _He blinks and realises there's no possible way to execute his idea, it would only hinder Robb's cause; he feels warm as he thinks of a dead Lannister. He is scaring himself. This is what the Lannister's are turning him into, and he knows he has to find his brother.

"My lord," starts Jon tentatively. This could be a dangerous question. "Did you.. did your lord father mention my brother?"

"I'm disappointed, Snow. Your brother is in rebellion against the crown. My family. You are my squire, therefore should be in support of us." Jaime's voice raises slightly towards the end, and it amuses Jon to watch him cringe away as Ghost bares his teeth in defence. Jon calmingly strokes the wolf's neck. "As a matter of fact, he did. We have an idea where he is, of his plans. Why should I tell you?"

"You said it yourself, my lord. I am your capti-" He stops himself. "Your squire. I support you. If it comes to battle I will be helping you. Would it not be wise for me to know the facts?" The words were catching in his throat. He's told lies before. Numerous times, back at Winterfell, to escape punishment for things he had done wrong, he blamed Theon Greyjoy. Sometimes he helped Arya, on occasion even Sansa (though Sansa getting herself into trouble was rare) to blame Jeyne Poole or some other girl living in the castle.

The guilt he felt then has nothing on the guilt he feels now. He has no intention of following through on his words but he wants news. He wants information. He wants hope, hope of finding Robb and the northern bannermen. It's the only way he can avenge his father.

Lannister stares at him for some moments. It's almost like he is trying to read the boys face. Jon gives nothing away, keeping his face as still as stone. Eventually, the kingslayer says: "We have reason to believe your half-brother," He puts emphasis on half-brother as if it will offend Jon. "is nearing the Twins. Walder Frey is yet to declare. There is no knowing whether Frey will let Stark's host through. Regardless, he is not a threat."

And with that, Jaime Lannister reminds him to saddle his horse and walks away.

_He is. _Jon thinks. He looks to the sky. _Robb__ is a threat. And if he isn't now, he will be once I join him. By the old gods and the new, we will take our revenge._

* * *

AN: From Jon's point of view, I started writing in a different tense. I think I'm going to write it like this from now on, if it works, so let me know please. I find it easier that way.

Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, especially as I wasn't too confident. :)

Next chapter will be up soon, I hope and will have Robb POV! I finally feel like I'm getting somewhere with this now.


End file.
